Chug-chug-chug as the propeller turns, powering the monster through descending, inky twilight. Swans lift their heads from beneath their wings and regard the passing behemoth with cold, beady eyes. Ripples lap at their haunches as they watch the noisy intruder round the next bend and make into the night with the constant, heavy throbbing of diesel through pistons. A dark and wholly unnerving shape makes off into the darkness, leaving only blisters on the skin of the river and an echo of the thrumming engine.

Daylight rises and with it awakes a newer, brighter image. The dark beast which growled its way through the oily night now stands fresh and clear, a jolly rover of steel and bright green paint. A cheerful chimney puffs thin smoke above as the river giant continues her plodding journey. Now in her wake she leaves splashing lights, shattered and sparkling on the water’s surface, beaming out cheerfully at the brave new world.

As in all else, the river giant is subject most exclusively, to perspective.